Page 11 of Worth Every Game
Seeing those cowboy boots splash through the puddles, and that tight little body all wrapped up in a giant raincoat, wild blonde curls poking out from beneath the hood, I knew it was her immediately. It was like my guilt had willed her into existence, right when she needed me.
She holds out her hand for the guitar. “Thanks for the lift.”
I’m about to hand it over when a thought occurs to me. I pull the guitar back out of reach. Elly’s shock is clearly etched on her face.
“Not so fast,” I say. “This guitar could be ruined. That was some pretty severe rain. I think you should check. In fact, I think you ought to take it out and play.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stretches for it again. “It’s late.”
I keep it out of reach. “I know. But apparently, I don’t know what I’m missing.”
Elly gives a cute little smile, obviously recognising her words from earlier. “And now you won’t ever find out.”
“But Ireallywant to know.” I hold the guitar up in the air, vaguely aware that whatever the fuck is happening here is a lot like flirting… but not the regular, banter-filled flirting I engagein with Elly, where we wind each other up, knowing it will never go anywhere. There’s a subtle difference, and right now this feels likeactualflirting. Feels a lot fucking like it, especially given the way she’s standing on tiptoes in those little boots trying to reclaim the guitar. She hasn’t a hope of reaching it unless she wants to climb me.
Why does that not sound as bad as it should?
Fuck. I am flirting.
Better draw it to a close, pronto. I take a set of keys out of my pocket, intending to unlock the front door, but I can’t resist the urge to add, “And I always get what I want, El.”
She’s right behind me as I stick the key in the lock. “Hey, it’s not legal for the landlord to enter the premises without permission.”
I glance over my shoulder at her. “Bad storm. Roof could be leaking. It could be an emergency. I’ll need to check.”
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, but before I can think too hard, I’ve shouldered the front door open and traipsed up the stairs to the first floor.
It’s only when my key is in the door to the flat that I realise I could be about to open the door to find my sister. Or even Nico.
“No one’s here,” Elly says like she’s read my mind. “But I didn’t invite you in. And for the record, I’mnotinviting you in. And as for us having sex tonight, just because you picked me up in the rain, that’s definitely not happening.”
My jaw almost drops to the floor. She’s totally called me out on every possible outcome that I may or may not have conceived, subconsciously or otherwise, when I refused to hand her back the guitar. “Woah—”
“I’d rather eat raw fish than sleep with you,” she quips.
What the hell? “Sushi’s a delicacy. You know that, right?”
She wrinkles her adorable nose, and the piercing on her left nostril catches the light. “Just because your date with Lydiadidn’t go well doesn’t mean you can force your way into the flat and seduce me. I know your game, Jack Lansen.”
I ignore the fact she’s accusing me of trying to fuck her, because talking about sex with Elly feels…strange. A bit dangerous. Kinda like skating on thin ice. If we walk out on it, we’re going to plunge right through the surface. Not that she’d come with me, butfuck it. Elly Carter is hot, and I wouldn’t say no if she asked.
I pull my thoughts back in line. “How do you know my date didn’t go well?”
She puts her hand on her hip. “Seriously, Jack.” She pauses as though I should immediately understand where she’s going with this, and when it’s apparent I don’t, she blows out a sigh. “You don’t want to date anyone who treats servers like shit. That’s the biggest red flag there is.”
I mentally replay the interactions between Elly and Lydia. “You think she treated you like shit?”
Elly averts her gaze as if this line of questioning makes her uncomfortable. “She wasn’t nice.”
I shrug because I don’t really care what Lydia’s like as a person. I figured I’d get laid and go home and that would be it. Never see her again. But the thing is, Elly has a point. Only a few hours in Lydia’s company and I could already tell she was more self-obsessed than I’d have liked.
But really, it didn’t matter. I would’ve fucked her anyway—and she was keen. She made that pretty clear when she slipped onto my lap and started grinding her arse against my cock at the after show—but for some reason, I didn’t feel like it tonight.
Elly pushes past me with the most irritating smile on her face, like she’s won whatever game we’re playing, but she stops abruptly, spinning back to look me up and down. “But seeing as you’re my best friend’s brother, you’re soaked through and youbrought me home out of the kindness of your heart, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
Without waiting for me to reply, she steps across to the open plan kitchen, fills the kettle, turns it on, and gets out two mugs from an overhead cupboard. The handle falls off the cupboard door as she closes it, landing with a metallic thud on the linoleum floor. She picks it up and fixes it back without a word of complaint, making me feel like the worst landlord in history.Christ, this place is a dump. The sooner her lease ends, and she's out of here, the better.
I follow her into the flat and let the door close behind me. She grabs a tea towel that’s hanging off the oven and chucks it at me. “Dry yourself.”